I Wish You
by Scatterheart
Summary: Sarah/Jareth. Sarah is married to someone else in an abusive relationship, and one evening Jareth comes to rescue her out of it...


Started: Feb. 14, 2001

Rating: R. Bad language. Adult situations.

Description: It's fourteen years after the Labyrinth. Sarah is married, but Jareth comes into her life unexpectedly, and she has to choose between her husband or him.

Disclaimer: We love you Mr. Henson!!

Dedication: To Esther. You beta reader, you.

Note: Inspired by… All Is Full Of Love by Bjork. Pump, by the Sugarcubes. The Eye Of The Beholder movie. And most of all, Érik Karol's wonderful poem, Je Te Souhaite. I don't know a bit of French, but I got the dictionary sites to translate for me! 

I WISH YOU

By: Scatterheart, a.k.a. 2shy

He came for her late after the sun had left below the hills, a flurry of white and gold flapping at her opened window. 

There. Right at the breath of her unconscious plea, "Jareth, please… take me… please…"

She didn't know why she was calling to him, a name as forgotten as the face that went with it, but it was a name, and it gave her comfort as she lay sprawled upon the king sized bed. Alone. 

Alone with the bed sheets smelling of a perfume she never used, and cigarettes, and brandy. 

Outside, the storm raged, sending a flurry of rain and cold inside of the room and onto her shivering body, clad only in a simple white nightgown. She didn't feel the cold anymore, not after she'd been lying there forever, unmoving.

If she were numb enough, then maybe she would forget that he was gone again, and that she was left to spend another weekend by herself. And if she were cold enough, maybe the aching bruises on her body would no longer feel as painful. 

Hell, when he came back, she would even smile at him this time, and he would smile back at her, and then they would kiss and rekindle the passion she believed was in him.

Maybe. 

That word was a pathetically small spark of warmth to her but it was warmth just the same, and she gathered herself around it so tightly that she didn't notice the winged bird fly through the window and settle, reformed, onto her soaked carpet. 

It was when a shadow fell over her closed eyes that she opened them, and saw the man the bird had become. 

He was wearing unearthly clothes of black leather and silk, and his long hair was wild. And the wind that blew the wrong way, or the rain that sucked at him, refusing to let their great king go, tugged at his cape to draw him back into the storm.

He didn't move. He stood inside her room, but through Sarah's delirious mind, he wasn't there. He was waiting. Waiting to stay, or to disappear out of the open window as if nothing had happened.

She didn't know what to say to him, simply shivered in the stinging cold. And it was _so_ cold she distantly guessed whether if _he_ was cold and the moment the thought crossed her mind she wondered more about him, the king, the goblin, the man.

She said: "Close the window, Jareth." Her voice was barely audible, but the window closed. The golden latch fell into its place with a tiny click, then all was silent while the storm raged behind the glass.

"Why are you here?"

He cocked his head to the side and smiled at her, amused at the question. "You know why."

"No, I don't!" She coughed, staggering to her feet. "Go away."

"I can't. You called to me."

Her frozen mind was in turmoil as it struggled to thaw. "Never."

"You said my name, and wanted me to come save you, Sarah." He took a silent step closer and she stumbled into the wall behind her, her back hitting the icy surface with a soft thud. 

"I would _never_ call to you," she bit out. "It's been fourteen years. Learn to forget."

"Oh, _I_ have," He whistled casually. He pulled at his gloves, his delicate fingertips dancing together.

The words, or the uncaring tone he used to say them, fueled the anger in her and she wanted to slap him. He merely halted her with his wicked, innocent eyes and smiled again. 

"_You_ wished for me, Sarah. _You_ wanted me to take you with me, I am merely here to do it." 

"You lying, dreaming, son of a bitch!" she protested, her anger escalating to fury. (At herself? At Jareth? _At… him?_) "Why would I want to see you now, after _fourteen years_?"

Jareth threw his head back and laughed. The sound filled the cold room, surprisingly warmed it. The storm outside died down and the silver fire of the moon shone through the tumultuous clouds and onto their faces. "Sarah, you precious girl… why must you do this constantly?"

"What?"

"Deny yourself," he nearly whispered.

She breathed and watched his laughter fade away. Now his eyes were almost black, and small flames licked in the depths of each one. Her heart fluttered. 

"Admit it," he urged. "You deny yourself of life… of love especially. And that was why you called for me. Mm? To give you these things?"

She suddenly felt her head grow fuzzy. How can she answer to a question like this? The world around her started to spin in a merry-go-round of dark anger and confusion.

"You want to love me," he stated simply. Carelessly. "Because _he_ doesn't."

Love. The puzzle of a word sent her reeling. And the situation was so ridiculous, so _incredibly_ ridiculous like a badly written period romance that she felt herself spiraling into that ethereal realm where the only two people existing were themselves. 

"You're looking for love in a place that doesn't have love."

No! She _had_ love, didn't she? _She had love!_

"He doesn't _give_ you love. That's the problem."

Falling…

"But love is all around you, Sarah."

Now she hit the ground, and everything was crumbling, cracking, dissipating… 

"Jareth, _stop_!"

He grabbed her shoulders. "And yet you _willingly_ deny yourself of it!_" _

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" she screamed. The storm must have started again, because a roaring sound erupted in her ears and consumed her. Two words echoed in her brain: _he's right, he's right, he's right hesrighthesright_… until they lost all meaning and slurred together like a sledgehammer to her body.

And then she did collapse into his arms. He was warm, and she _hated_ him. She hated the way he reacted, gently burying her to his chest like she was the last breath of air on earth. She hated his quick heartbeat, how amazingly human he was, and how alive and human he made _her_ feel.

And she hated how he was giving her all the things she ever wanted from Franklin.

"Get the hell away from me." The thought of Franklin jabbed like a sword into her heart. She pushed him back roughly. "Don't come any closer, or you'll regret it."

"Sarah…"

"Stop it! Why do you keep thinking that I need you to rescue me?" she shouted. "Are you going to take me to your castle again? And the fourteen years that passed between us can just go to hell, and I'll marry you like nothing _fucking_ happened!"

"Calm yourself-"

"I guess that won't work, would it? Because you want the _teenage_ girls! Seduce them into your castle, maybe screw a couple of them, and come back a decade later to _rescue_ them from the shit you put them in!"

"Sarah!" The roar was deafening, almost unhuman. And the silence overlapped the silence as he moved away from her. "I didn't-"

She choked back her tears and shook silently. "You bastard."

His voice quieted to an ominous buzz. "I'm doing you a favor. You talk as if you forget that."

"I don't want it."

"No, you don't." he said, coldly dispassionate, like a teardrop falling onto a frozen lake. "You want to stay like this."

She sighed, looking up to his sarcastic glare that challenged hers. "Would it be any different with you?" 

"Yes," he said.

"How so?"

He smiled coldly. "I would not hit you. I would not spend money on liquor or cigarettes. I would not cheat on you…" 

He sounded like the impatient man reading the items from a grocery list. But instead of anger, she felt different toward his words. There was a tender trembling inside of her, at the very heart of her that increased and would not go away. 

His face was almost emotionless, with the tiniest dash of cool contempt. But his eyes were glistening with fiery colors that nothing could conceal… _did_ he want to conceal it? Did he want her to see it?

But she hated him! She _did_! She wanted to hate him with all her might and drive a stake into that vampire's chest and get rid of his awful truths! 

"… Insult you. Hurt you. Laugh at you. Make you cry…"

She closed her eyes. 

"…and of course…" A pause. "…I would love you, Sarah."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered a saying, "The opposite of hate is indifference, not love."

It didn't matter now, a million nothings were flitting through her mind now, just filling her with a numbing static that kept the impact of his words at bay.

What _was_ this feeling? Fear… yes, but not afraid of him, who stood so patiently before her, but _for_ him. And then the trembling warmth bubbled to the top of her, mingled with the fear. A wracking sob spilled out of her, but no moisture sprung to her eyes. 

He shrugged. As simply as he had been through the whole evening. Aside from the intensity in his eyes, he didn't _care_, did he?

"But, my dear, precious girl," he murmured to her, "the world doesn't revolve this way."

No. No. It didn't.

And that was the fear that was tingling through her body, the fear of what would happen… if. If they dared the moon to kill the harsh sun, and wrap them up in a forgiving blanket of blindness.

"Sarah, that is not the excuse," he snapped, as if he had deciphered through her mind. "You cannot stay here. With him."

"I have no choice!" 

Truly, how can she, a thirty something woman who was already too tired to live, go with… a king? And to love one while living with…

Franklin.

"Jareth… Leave. Now." She was pushing him harshly toward the window. Out, he needed to go out! God! She couldn't risk it for him! Couldn't, just couldn't! Oh, God! Just go! _Go!_

And then, the bedroom light flickered on, casting the cool blue room in a naked orange blast. 

"What the _hell_ is going on here?"

"Franklin- don't!"

He was already three feet into the door, the sickening sweet aroma of alcohol dispersing into the corners of the room. His clothes, rumpled from lovemaking with another woman, and his hair, wet from the rain. "Babe- shit! Who the _fuck_ do you have with you?" 

It's happening. 

"Franklin! I love you! Please! Just leave him alone, he'll leave!" She didn't know what she was feeling anymore. And the panic started rising and rising, and she fell, tumbling once again.

"_Fuck_ it! I leave to fix the car and you have this whore in _our_ house!"

"Franklin, I understand, but _he was lost_… Please, he'll go…" 

He strode closer, drunken green eyes stabbing like knives into her. "You bitch!"

She braced herself, pushing Jareth behind her. 

And then, Franklin's meaty fist raised above his head-

"Stop!"

"Jareth, _no_!"

He walked calmly, like a sleek raven from an ancient legend, in front of her. "If you touch one hair on her head, I'll make sure you never see the light of day for as long as you live." 

"You bastard! What are you gonna do with _my girl?!_" he bellowed into him. 

His girl, his girl… She didn't want to be his girl. And for a split second, when a flash of lightening hit the sky, she thought, maybe she did. 

"Babe- what the _fuck_ did he do to you? Babe, I'm so fuckin' sorry. Look at you…"

"Please, Franklin, just let it go. Let him go. And we'll be okay. _Okay_?" 

"He was trying t_o murder _you!"

__

"No!" She ran to him, touched his heaving chest, looked into his face. There it was again, just the slight wisp of a memory of the handsome football player he used to be. She could see herself in his eyes at eighteen again, when she was beautiful and unmarred by the pressures of life.

"Franklin, I love you. I really, really do… let him go."

"Babe…"

"Please." She kissed his cheek.

"… I'm sorry, babe."

She heard the shot before she saw the gun. It was louder that she had imagined it to be, and so raw, unlike the hollow, muffled sounds on TV sitcoms. Then the glint of the shiny metal in Franklin's hand flashed in triumph, and Jareth clutched at his chest without a sound. The echo of the shot faded into the night. 

It was over.

"_Jareth!_" 

She tore herself from Frankin's protective grasp and ran to him, saw the deep crimson blood seep between his fingers and onto his white shirt. And there was a red, red rose blooming so beautifully on his chest that she wanted to cry because she'll never see anything like it ever again. 

He looked like an angel… _her_ angel, and now, he would be her angel no more. 

"We can never be, you know. There was never love."

"There _is_, Jareth! _I_ love y-"

He smiled, the fire in his eyes cooling for the first time. "Shh… never say love to anyone."

"_No! That's not true!_" She reached to touch him, but couldn't. 

"I wish you… childhood, Sarah," he whispered to her.

The thunder rolled, and somehow, the windows burst open, and the storm moaned in grief at their fallen king and pulled him into their eternal embrace.

Then her angel fell into darkness. Just as he had come, on the wings of a whisper.

"Oh, God…" She sank to her knees, her mind a blank.

"Sarah, baby, I'm so sorry… are you okay? Are you okay?" A voice… Franklin's. Franklin. Her husband.

He wrapped his strong arms around her, letting the savage rain pour down upon them, washing away all that had been.

"I'm fine, Franklin," she said. The tears finally came. The poured over her cheeks and mixed with the rain and she cried into his chest like a lost child. "God, Franklin, you shouldn't have, you shouldn't have…"

And he rasped, "I'm so sorry baby. Can we start over? I really fucked it up… I'm so sorry, baby. I love you, I love you."

She looked up into his face. "Never say love to anyone." But she said it so softly he couldn't hear it, and he held her closer and kissed her. 

And behind her, the breathy sound of the flapping of wings reached her ears. But it was probably just the heartbeat of the rainstorm. 

FINIS.

"Je te souhaite le coeur qui sans cesse s'élance,

Et danse sur un fil d'horizon, effronté,

Les rêves affutés, les dragons affrontés,

Les lagons oubliés... Je te souhaite l'enfance." ~Érik Karol 

Ended: Feb. 22, 12:37 AM.

Feedback would be loved at [2shy@teenagewildlife.com][1]

Archive anywhere in its entirety. 

   [1]: mailto:2shy@teenagewildlife.com



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